


Skin and Bone

by RavenGrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Dean, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scar Worship, Scars, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s skin is almost always warm. Warm and littered with scars and comforting beneath Sam’s hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this forever ago and then kinda just gave up in the middle. Finally got around to finishing it though.
> 
> woo
> 
> edited by me so any errors are totes my fault

 

            Dean’s skin is almost always warm. Warm and littered with scars and comforting beneath Sam’s hands. Dean usually doesn’t let him touch, not to this extent, but he’d been out late and had come to the motel room pleasantly drunk.

             After stripping out of all of his clothes, save his pants, he’d flopped right into Sam’s lap and presented his stomach for pets.  

            “What the hell, dude.” Sam lifts his book out of Dean’s range, narrowly avoiding his flailing hands, an eyebrow cocked at his inebriated brother.

            “You got hans for a reason, Sammy, time ‘t put ‘em to good use.” Dean slurs back, wriggling pointedly in Sam’s lap.

             Sam puts his book down with a longsuffering sigh. While Dean is distracted with finding a comfortable position, Sam dumps him onto the mattress and neatly straddles his thighs.

             He pins Dean’s hands above his head, long fingers spanning the roughly scarred skin with ease. Dean wriggles with pleasure as Sam’s weight settles on his hips, green eyes liquid and hot. 

             Dean’s hands are pushed into the crap motel room pillow, held in place by one of Sam’s, and Dean feels a thrill run through him. Sam thumbs the soft inside of Dean’s wrists and feels the minute throb of Dean’s pulse, feels the slightly raised lines that criss-cross on Dean’s skin and revels in the touch.

             Still holding Dean’s wrists, he rubs his fingers over the scars, new and old, caused by rope and metal and on that one memorable occasion, the fish-nets of a rougarou hooker.

             Sam is never going to let Dean live that particular case down. Ever. 

            “S’not what I meant, you salad loving pansy.” Dean complains, a ridiculous pout on his lips while Sam settles himself more comfortably.

             “What does that have to do with _anything_?” Sam laughs back, dragging his fingers down a shallow, half healed gash that lies just above Dean’s wrist bone. A series of faint scars, almost like cigarette burns, dot the underside of Dean’s arm and Sam caresses them with care.

            Dean shudders a little, mouth going slack as Sam feathers light touches up and down his arm.

            “’Sides,” Sam interrupts smoothly before Dean can think of anything snarky “the more patient you are,” Sam’s fingers slide casually up the length of Dean’s forearm “the longer I’m gonna touch you.”

             Dean, seeing the logic in this despite being drunk off his ass, presses his hips up into Sam’s on a slow roll.

            His lips curl up into an easy smile and he murmurs back, voice rough with Jack “Alright Sammy, ya got yourself a deal.”

             There’s something mischievous that plays around Dean’s mouth that tells Sam that he’s lost. He’s not sure what game they were playing, but he’s lost it big time. Sam nods, breathless, and follows the curve of Dean’s upper arm with his fingers, the muscles stretched taut.

             A scar runs diagonal across Dean’s upper arm, curving around his shoulder and ending in a not-so-neat hook by his collarbone. Sam’s fingers follow the slope of it lazily; Dean’s skin hot beneath his fingers, and leans in to press a kiss to the bullet-graze near his arm-pit.  

            Dean, hands still crossed above his head, stretches out. His toes curl in the sheets and his muscles shift beneath sun-kissed, deliciously scarred skin.

             Sam swallows thickly, already hard in his jeans, and his fingers dip into the hollow of Dean’s throat. Dean grins and gives another stretch, arching up into Sammy. Dean groans low in his throat at the lazy roll of heat that starts somewhere in his chest and moves to his hips.

             Sam’s lips twitch up and he drags a fingernail lightly over an inch long scar that’s just underneath Dean’s jawline. Dean’s breath stutters and his hips jerk.

             “Damn Sammy, c’mon baby, ya just gotta touch me, I can’t take much more a this.” Dean murmurs, voice rough and full of heat. Sam’s dick gives an interested twitch and Sam leans in to press a kiss to the sliver of scar high on Dean’s temple. Another on the nick on his eyebrow and his cheek.

            “You,” Sam kisses the bridge of his nose “are a brat.” Dean makes kissy noises at him and twists his wrists experimentally against Sam’s hold. He’s not really trying to get free, just enjoying the solid dig of Sam’s fingers.

            Dean’s eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches Sam with a lethal kind of hunger, each light, tentative touch making his cock throb fiercely. Sam lets go of his wrists in favor of exploring the plethora of scars on Dean’s chest

             Sam follows the curving sliver of scar that lies just below Dean’s nipple and Dean’s hand moves to cover Sam’s, jerking it up to press against the flat, brown nub.

             “M’your brat.” Dean points out smugly. Sam kisses his grinning mouth and nips his bottom lip. The raspy, hungry sound Dean makes punches him right in the belly and Sam groans quietly against Dean’s mouth.

            Dean surges up to mash their lips together, Sam’s palm radiating heat where it’s pressed flat to his chest. Sam rolls Dean’s nipple while Dean flicks his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam pulls back, mouth shiny, and huffs a laugh against Dean’s mouth.

            “Damn straight.” Sam covers Dean’s lips with his, kissing him deep and slow, until Dean’s chest is heaving and his breaths are coming in hard pants. Sam pulls back and runs his thumb over Dean’s slick bottom lip.

             His hand finds the raised, fresh lines of scars that spans one side of Dean’s ribcage and commits them to memory. The four curves of scar about a month old, still healing, and Sam’s gentle with them.

             Dean’s head lolls to the side while he catches his breath, exposing a stubbled expanse of throat that has its fair share of knife nicks and scratches.

            Sam’s mouth covers the most prominent scar and sucks hard while he rubs Dean’s nipples. Both of Dean’s hands move to Sam’s hair and he jerks it hard, a growl on his lips.

             Sam nips at Dean’s pulse point, the beat of it slow and heady against his tongue, and slides his tongue down into the dip of Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s fingers twist hard in his hair, impatient, and Sam sucks a hicky onto delicate skin at the base of his throat.

            Sam flicks his tongue over the line of Dean’s collarbone and he presses an open mouth kiss to the bone. His hands slip down to thumb the dips of Dean’s hip bones. His nails drag over an old claw mark, which curves up over the bone and ends abruptly, and Dean groans.

             The claw had obviously caught on the jut of Dean’s hip and had likely saved him from being disemboweled. Sam touches it reverently and slides his tongue down Dean’s chest.

            Dean is almost purring, lip caught between his teeth while he watches Sam with half lidded eyes, his pupils huge and dark in the dim light. Sam bypasses his nipples and instead pressed an open-mouth kiss to the bottom of his ribcage. Dean’s stomach goes hollow and he sucks in a quick breath.  

             His hands are tangled in Sammy’s hair, nails occasionally scratching his scalp while he plays with the overlong strands. He occasionally gives a jerk when Sam’s hands don’t move quick enough and almost every hard jerk elicits a breathy grunt.

            Dean’s laugh, rough and smug, sends a spike of want up Sam’s spine. In retaliation Sam smoothes his hands gently up Dean’s ribcage, touch feather light and taunting.

             Dean whines low in his throat and expresses his distaste by wriggling grumpily, a “C’mon Sammy, don’ leave me hangin’.” his compelling argument. He only stills when Sam splays his fingers over the expanse of his ribcage on either side and squeezes tightly, fingers digging into the divots of his ribs.

            “Aw yeah,” Dean groans, head falling back into the pillows with a thump, fingers still buried in Sam’s hair. “Touch me harder Sammy, I ain’t gon break, come on.”

             Sam gives a pained yelp as he’s dragged up Dean’s chest by his hair. He goes easily, because being 6’4 doesn’t make having your hair pulled hurt any less, and winds up face to face with a smirking Dean.

             “Help a brother out.” Dean adds with a winning grin, lips quirked enticingly.

            He falls completely quiet, hands still clenched in Sam’s hair, his eyes crinkling with laugh lines. A warm laugh rumbles up from his chest and vibrates against Sam while Dean cracks up over his own joke.

            “Help… help a brother out.” He chokes out, laughing even harder. Sam’s forehead meets Dean’s with a dull thunk and he groans as Dean continues to laugh.

             “Yeah, Dean, I got it, you’re hilarious.” Sam crinkles his nose and Dean goes cross-eyed trying to look at Sam.

            “Damn right I am.” Dean kisses his chin and wriggles around seductively. Sam snorts and pecks him lightly on the mouth before untangling Dean’s hands from his hair. Dean pouts and Sam moves down until he’s settled between Dean’s legs.

            He sits criss-cross applesauce, the backs of Dean’s knees settled on the tops of his thighs, and unbuttons Dean’s jeans. Dean grins at him like a dope.

             A drunk, hot-as-hell dope that’s rock hard and eager and looking at Sam like he’s the best thing in Dean’s world. Dean goes still, shockingly still, and Sam pulls down his zip while Dean watches him with half-lidded eyes.

            Dean’s dick is pressed down flat against his stomach, held in place by his jeans, and Sam hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. “Seriously dude, do you ever wear underwear?”

            Dean laughs and lifts his hips up so Sam can shimmy his jeans down his thighs. Dean’s dick is flushed red at the tip and slick with pre-come. Sam sucks in a shaky breath as it peeps out between the teeth of his zipper and he brushes his thumb over Dean’s head.

            “Never.” Dean says with a quicksilver smile, biting his lip as a sharp burst of quick-building heat makes his eye-lids flutter.

           “God Sammy can’t take much of that.” Dean’s voice is raspy and Sam does it again, thumb moving in smooth, firm circles over Dean’s slit. He stops long enough to pull Dean’s jeans off and then he’s got his fingers wrapped around Dean’s shaft and Dean’s eyes roll back in his head.

            “You always were easy.” Sam smirks a little and pumps Dean, fingers closed tight around him. Dean rolls up into the circle of Sam’s hand, chest heaving, and gasps out a “bitch”.

            Sam’s grin is going to star in every wet dream he has from here on out, he’s pretty damn sure. Sam gives Dean another slow stroke before he leans in to flick his tongue over the sensitive spot under Dean’s head.

            Dean’s head slams back and his hips jolt. If Sam didn’t have a steadying hand on Dean’s hip, he’d have gagged, but Dean just bumps against his lips.

             “ _Jesus Sammy_.” Dean chokes out, cock throbbing as Sam licks the dot of pre-come from his lips.

            “For an agnostic you sure do praise God a lot.” Sam murmurs wryly, Dean’s hipbone pressing up into his palm. He strokes Dean from base to tip and watches the sharp grin that splits Dean’s face.

            “Just shut up and suck my dick already.” Dean groans, amused despite the fact that his dick isn’t currently being sucked.

            Sam laughs impishly and takes Dean into his mouth, taking him all the way to back of his throat. Dean goes rigid, back arching as his hips snap forward. It’s almost too much, the sudden touch of Sam’s tongue along the underside of Dean’s dick, but he rides out the shock of pleasure.

             A harsh groan rumbles up from deep in his chest and his cock pulses out a bead of pre-come as the wet heat of Sam’s mouth closes around him. Sam swirls his tongue, jaw aching as he takes Dean as far as he can without gagging.

            Dean’s breaths come in erratic pants and Sam bobs his head while Dean clutches at the sheets. His legs are wrapped tight around Sam’s back, crossed at the ankles, and his ears are flushed pink.

            “ _Jesus.”_ Dean grunts and he can almost feel the waves of smug radiating off Sammy as he hollows his cheeks and _sucks_.

            Dean’s vision goes white, stomach muscles going tense as his orgasm builds sudden and unforgiving. It sweeps up from his hips and strikes like lightening. Sam swallows thickly as that first wave of salty come washes over his tongue.

            Dean’s toes curl almost hard enough to cramp and Sam steadies his hips, lips stretched wide around Dean’s cock. Dean’s loud, shocked pants burn through him and Sam groans around Dean, dick painfully hard and aching.

             Dean jerks, dick pulsing out a few last beads of come that Sam gulps down. He pulls off when Dean’s gasping takes on a more desperate tone and watches Dean’s dick bob against his stomach. Dean shudders, cock twitching out one last bead of come that Sam thumbs away as Dean goes limp.

            Dean smiles at him, sleepy and devious, and makes grabby hands at Sam. Sam licks his thumb clean and moves so he’s hovering over Dean, a hand on either side of his head. Dean smirks at him again and wraps his arms around Sam’s neck while making gross kissy sounds.

            Sam rolls his eyes and flops down on his side next to Dean. Dean barely gets his arms out of the way in time and frowns grumpily at Sam right up until he kisses him. He grins like a doofus against Sam’s mouth and palms Sam through his boxers.

            Sam groans and wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck. Dean grins and thumbs Sam’s head. His boxers cling to his slick tip and he presses his hips into Dean’s sloppy touch.

            Dean’s tongue presses against his and Sam’s hips stutter when Dean slips his hand inside of his boxers and wraps calloused fingers around Sam’s dick. All it takes is a few messy strokes and Sam’s coming hard into Dean’s hand with a ragged groan.

            Dean’s hand slides quick over him and Sam grinds into it. Dean gives his wrist a neat little twist and Sam holds his breath as the pleasure fades out in shivery waves.

            “And you call me easy.” Dean’s hand slips out a Sam’s boxers and he licks a string of come from his palm.

            The thump and yelp Dean makes when he hits the floor is deeply satisfying and Sam pulls the sheet up around his chest after cleaning up with Dean’s shirt.

 


End file.
